


I would

by xTammyVx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boats and Ships, Boys Being Boys, Boys Kissing, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Marijuana, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Recreational Drug Use, Shameless Smut, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Snogging, Universe Alterations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTammyVx/pseuds/xTammyVx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“What if,” Niall says in that blurty way that he can say things when they’re close like this, buzzed like now, and high like kites. “What if I didn’t want a girl? If I wanted a boy? Would you, then? With me?”</i><br/> <br/><i>Zayn blinks at him a little too obviously. “Seriously?” He looks around the circle and his shoulders hunch under the weight of their curiosity. “I dunno, mate. One of those heat-of-the-moment decisions, innit?”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	I would

Zayn can’t remember whose idea it had been, and, quite frankly, it doesn’t even matter anymore.

“Don’t be selfish, Liam,” Louis scolds, fingertips barely brushing against the joint slid between the younger boy’s lips.

Liam, Zayn thinks. It’d been Liam, and the grin positively _giddy_ with naughtiness, who had asked them if they’d wanted to try it, because he _just so happened_ to have brought some for their overnight boat trip. Niall had answered first with his own grin and then with a cheer and a _big_ hug for his new best friend. Zayn got the feeling that it wouldn’t really be anyone’s first time but Harry’s and didn’t say a thing of it.

Liam releases it begrudgingly, the smoke curling in a smooth exhale into Louis’ pouting face. Snickering, he passes it on, propped up on his elbows with a lazy smirk.

The whole thing is pretty cruisy, even for them. Harry had been reluctant to do it and they had all assured him that, just as it was okay to want it, it was also okay to not. He’d ended up taking the joint anyway, spluttering and making a surprised comment on how smooth it is despite his cough. Now he’s nodding off in Louis’ lap, head on his thighs, hands curled up by his nose, watching them occasionally as his smile continues through his nap. He even goes as far as to open his mouth like a baby bird for Louis or Liam to drop a crisp into. It’s adorable, really.

Niall holds the hit in for a few seconds more, letting it float from his open mouth, sucking on the joint again while the tip burns a brilliant shade of orange, and he passes it on to Zayn with a lick of his pale lips. “Shit, Li, Harry’s right. That’s smooth. Well done, man.” He reaches across the circle—hexagon?—to pat Liam on the back.

Zayn takes a swig and a drag and leans back, letting his body absorb the calm, easy smoke that makes his heart swim. The drifting smell wafts through the still of the night; he’s getting used to it, Zayn thinks, and he’s surprisingly okay with that.

“Paul’s got an eye out for photographers, right?” Louis asks as his fingers pinch the neck of his beer bottle. “Don’t want them catching the One D boys lighting up after what happened to Biebs. My mum won’t be happy.”

“He’s got us surrounded, so we’re good,” Liam assures them, staring up at the stars.

Slowly stirring from wherever he’s been lost in his own head for the past half hour, Harry rumbles up into the murmurs going around, “Taylor’s got really nice hips.”

Zayn sniggers low in his throat. Louis’ expression drips with mock-hurt that runs down his fingers and into the nest of curls over Harry’s forehead. “I cannot _believe_ that you’re thinking of _her_ while you’re on _my_ lap,” he murmurs, clearly too stoned to make a big deal about it.

“You’ve got nice thighs,” Harry offers. He snuggles in further to prove it.

“In that case, you’re forgiven,” Louis smiles. The joint is brought to his lips by Niall but plucked away by Liam. “Hey!”

“Mate, you’ve got no room to complain. _I_ paid for it,” Liam grins. Zayn likes that grin. He likes that Niall echoes it in a goofier way, humming a little to himself to no tune in particular. The sound of the wordless strum of his voice breathes through the silence and makes it a little more bearable. Zayn closes off the world and settles into the old chair that they’ve placed on the deck.

“Sometimes,” Liam continues dreamily, holding what’s left of the blunt between his fingers, “Dani does this thing… this thing with her hips when she’s, like, on top and stuff.” Zayn knows that he’s off his face now, because Liam doesn’t usually talk about sex of his own free will, and he _never_ talks about sex with Danielle. Harry’s paying more attention now. “She moves her hips in circles and just drops suddenly and then she does it again, faster each time. And I’m sitting there, face in her neck, and she makes these amazing sounds.” He sighs and laughs quietly to himself. “Fucking beautiful.”

“I like going down on girls,” Harry smiles over Louis’ comment on the swear that slipped into Liam’s speech. It’s dopey and messy and hitched higher on the left than the right. “I like it when their thighs clench on my head, and she’ll pull my hair a little by accident. I like when they pull my hair.”

“Calm down,” Louis exclaims, irking laughter from all of them as he yanks his own hand back. “Remember where you are, Harry.”

“’re not a girl,” Harry mutters, reaching weakly for the blunt, inhaling deeply.

Louis snorts. “Well noted.”

“Thanks.” He licks his lips and Liam hands him a water bottle, having been prepared for dry mouths and whatnot. “But, like, you know when they start to get _really_ close, shifting up against your face and that, and they grip on _hard_? That’s what I like.”

“No chance of that,” Liam smirks, rubbing a hand over his stubble. “But yeah, I get it.”

Harry hums a little laugh in response.

Zayn thinks that, maybe, he could add his own two cents and tell them about his own experiences, and he’s just about to when Niall cuts into the words on his tongue.

“I’m really horny,” he admits coolly.

The corners of Louis’ lips hitch up, his shoulders quivering with the silent chuckle that he doesn’t allow to sound out. “Why don’t you just,”—he mimics wanking with his free hand, the other having found Harry’s hair once again—“by yourself?”

Shrugging his shoulders lazily, Niall bites his bottom lip, thinks it over, and picks at his shoe. “’s not the same, is it? Not like having someone there with you.”

“So find someone,” Zayn suggests. “There are plenty of people who’d get with you.”

“Are you volunteering?” Liam asks, the hint of his grin softening it, his eyes genuinely curious. Lowering his bottle, Louis laughs loudly at that, as does Harry, the two of them giggling in the background like children.

Niall’s tongue peeks out to tease the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, Zayn,” he says and opens his legs a little more, probably not even on purpose, “are you trying to tell me something?”

“Well, no, it’s just that if you’re wanting a shag, go and have one,” Zayn mutters, watching Liam roll another joint with nimble fingers that look suspiciously practiced in that particular art and wishing that he was just a _little_ faster so that he’d have an excuse to not talk anymore. “Find a nice girl, do what needs to be done, and that can be it.” His hand dips haphazardly into the bowl and he grabs a handful of crisps. They crunch so loudly and the taste is rich and beautiful like fireworks.

“What if,” Niall says in that blurty way that he can say things when they’re close like this, buzzed like now, and high like kites. “What if I didn’t want a girl? If I wanted a boy? Would you, then? With me?”

Zayn blinks at him a little too obviously. “Seriously?” He looks around the circle and his shoulders hunch under the weight of their curiosity. “I dunno, mate. One of those heat-of-the-moment decisions, innit?”

Seemingly thinking about it, Niall goes quiet again, eyes red at the rims, lashes low. It gives Zayn a chance to pause for a slow suck on the blunt, Liam having already drawn first blood. He blows it out in rings, making Louis laugh; he’s had practice with that.

“Alright,” Niall suddenly says. He gets up with a grunt and goes to the door, looking back and Zayn expectantly. “Come on, then. Are you going to come with me?”

Zayn listens to the steady beat of his heart in his ears, eight eyes snapping onto him. It’s like the air’s been sucked out and they’re all holding their breath, needing to be given the go ahead by Zayn to exhale. To be fair, Zayn’s breathing feels pretty surreal at the offer, but his inhibitions are tucked away so neatly beneath the alcohol in his gut that, yes, he’ll take it, just for kicks.

“Yeah, yeah.” He’s not really thinking as he pushes the joint back to Liam, nodding. “Okay.”

Niall’s face lights up, and Zayn doesn’t know, doesn’t know if he was just kidding and he’s about to sit back down and have another beer, or if he’s going to stretch it out a little longer, or if he’s _serious_ about getting off with Zayn.

The blond crosses one of those possibilities out by ducking into the cabin.

“Oi, no, wait,” Liam protests, grabbing onto Zayn’s calf as he goes to follow him in. “Are you two actually gonna…” He swallows, leaving out the “ _hook up_ ”, “ _rub one off_ ”, or “ _fuck_ ”.

Zayn shrugs and says, “I dunno,” because he doesn’t know.

“Well, uh.” Louis clears his throat and shares a quick glance with Harry, who’s still grinning like a loon. “Get some, if that’s the case.”

Pursing his lips, Zayn nods again and slips through the door, following the hallway darkened by the lights that aren’t on, into the room where he can hear a deep humming. He leans in the doorway, fists dug into his pockets as he catches Niall’s eye.

“That Liam’s tank top?” Niall stumbles over his words a little.

“Yeah.”

“You’re his size?”

“A little smaller,” Zayn replies, not sure if he should take offence to the implication that Liam is more muscled than him (which he is).

“Huh,” Niall mutters. “You wanna, like, do this?”

Raising and dropping his shoulders from their tense hold, Zayn says, “Sure. Why not?”

A grin settles on Niall, who strides across to Zayn and lets his hands cup at the back of the older boy’s neck. He leans in against him and it hits Zayn, then, that he can go with this. His hands uncurl from his shorts and Niall’s hips fit surprisingly well in them and his tongue pokes experimentally into Zayn’s mouth. It takes a little grunt and a bite to his bottom lip and Niall’s moving backwards, dragging Zayn with him. At first Zayn thinks that he’s falling, that he’s too drunk for this, but then the bed catches the backs of Niall’s knees and that puts him at ease.

Niall’s grip tightens, tugs Zayn in harder, and then it’s an open mess and Zayn squeezes his eyes shut to it, hands slipping beneath Niall’s waist. It’s their mouths against each other, and Niall tugging on the front of his top, burying his face in his neck and that’s— it’s always been a hotspot for Zayn, _always_ , and he buckles under the heat of Niall’s breath.

“Ooh, you like that, don’t you?” Niall teases, his voice gruff. Zayn only offers a nod, and Niall lands him on his back, head an inch down from the pillow, attacking Zayn’s exposed throat for all that he’s worth.

Zayn’s hips strain up against him, squirming for something to touch him lower, clenching his teeth as he feels his eyes roll back, back into his skull. He lets out these breathy, hushed moans against Niall’s temple, clutching at the belt loops on his shorts. This is better than he’d thought it would be, with Niall’s curses whispered through an easy grin leaning on the thicker side of his Irish accent. Zayn never pictured him like this—well, not with another _boy_ —and it’s interesting and hot, his cheeks burned with his high as they snog through quite a few minutes, the pale echo of their friends’ laughter a background noise. It’s nice. It’s nice to be held.

“You should take this off.” Niall grips Zayn’s tank and has to allow Zayn the space to reach down the back of his neck and tug it over. “Zayn, you’re beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Zayn smiles and he’s unsure as to whether or not being beautiful is supposed to be a compliment for a man, and then realises that he doesn’t give a shit. “Come on, then, let’s see you.”

Pointed tongue running across the wet of his bottom lip, Niall straightens. He threads the leather belt from its loop and then his shorts and boxers are past his arse, dropping to his knees, looking with proud, wide eyes watching for some kind of reaction.

The round head of his cock is pink, taut and shiny at the tip. Zayn’s slightly aware that he’s staring, and that Niall is bigger than him. He brings his hand to the inside of his milky-white thighs and sweeps up, barely brushing Niall’s balls, and it’s enough to make the blond exhale slightly faster.

“Alright?”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods, finally looking up.

His hand moves to get a firm grip on the base of his dick, stroking him until he’s at full hardness and his breaths are shivering when Zayn gets to the head. Zayn’s lips meet the knuckle of his own finger and replace it with an open kiss to the tip of Niall’s cock.

Niall buckles and his mouth gapes, his hands go one to the wall and the other to Zayn’s quiff, tightening as Zayn moves forward, forward, down the length. Bobbing, his head turns, spit on his chin from the speed.

“Wait, wait,” he murmurs, Zayn pulling off of him slowly. “Let me just get down here.”

Niall on his back—hard and flushed and his voice tainted with rosy dreaminess—isn’t something that Zayn thought he’d ever be seeing, let alone being the _cause_ of. He leaves him there for a second, knowing that they should be kissing or he should be sucking him off instead of pumping his fist down his dick, and not doing it. He just wants to look at him.

It’s then that the blond glides his left hand over the intricate muscles riddled across Zayn’s body and pulls him in by the scruff of his neck for a kiss. It’s his tongue in Zayn’s mouth, the pants in his ear, the hardness against his abdomen. It’s Zayn moving down over Niall’s chin with a hot chain of nips that Niall bucks up for. He sighs and grunts and shifts and _oh_ , yes, those lips. His cock is thick and smooth on Zayn’s tongue and his blurred vision still lets him see Niall collapsing into the bed.

He’s so compact, sighing and his eyelashes fluttering, so beautiful. Zayn gets it now, sitting on his knees as he jerks Niall off again. Niall whines when Zayn rubs his palm over the sensitive head.

“You’ve done this before,” he gasps roughly, “or this is what you… what _you_ like.”

“A little bit of both,” Zayn admits through his smirk.

“I can tell,” Niall swallows. “’s good.” His jaw goes slack but he manages to murmur, “ _You’re_ good.”

“Practice,” Zayn murmurs, ducking down.

A quick groan leaves Niall, one that’s been happening more and more frequently, his hips jerking and fucking into Zayn’s mouth. Zayn pulls back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Niall chants breathily in a rush and jumble. “I’m gonna come, just—”

Zayn rubs his thumb against his slit and that’s it, that’s what Niall needs, all it takes to unravel him and his thin lips part to let his moan fill the room. He listens as it draws to a close, to Niall as he whispers his name as a sign to stop, his voice totally fucked and raw, and then his own heartbeat.

Some muffled little grunt fluffs out from Niall, his glazed eyes barely opening to reveal blown pupils in a ring of pale grey, his smile hinting as everything drifts into focus. “That was some fine stuff that Liam got,” he whispers. “Good man.”

His skin's so pink, all the way down to his chest, Zayn notices with a light snicker, settling down beside him. He wants to stroke the flush of colour and lick it off his fingers.

“See if there’re any tissues in the drawer, would you? Don’t want my own spunk drying on me.”

The words are barely mutters, slurred slightly at the corners. Niall reaches out for the tissue that Zayn holds, but Zayn gets straight to cleaning him up with a quick swoop over his stomach and even tucks his cock back in for him. Niall grins;

“Have you ever come while you’re high, Zayn?” He’s still rough on the whole speaking thing. Clearing his throat does nothing to ease the burn. “It’s a thing of beauty.”

“Nah, man,” Zayn laughs and goes to add when Niall glances at him strangely, “I haven’t.”

“No shit?” Niall exclaims, suddenly pumped.

Zayn’s hand goes automatically to his left shoulder, rubbing across the bare skin, shielding himself from the shock washed shamelessly over his friend’s features. “I’m not gonna lie, Niall. The only times that I’ve been high… I’ve never _gotten_ with anyone, you know? It’s just me and some mates and we don’t do—” he gestures between them awkwardly, “— _this_.”

“You didn’t have a quick wank? Not even just to see what it was like?” He’s not even trying to contain his excitement now.

“I didn’t know that it was supposed to be _like_ anything.”

The grin that appears on Niall’s face is blinding, the hand that shoots out to pin him to the bed rough and quick.

“C’mon, get your kit off.” Niall rubs his forehead against Zayn’s temple like a puppy, tongue hot against the crook of his neck. Zayn thinks that he’s crossing a line with this cuddliness, and wants to say something, but the high still flowing through him tells his brain to shut up and sit down because it feels _good_.

Niall works his hands under Zayn, grabbing his arse through his shorts as Zayn hurries to unbutton them, his knuckles scraping against the bed as the thigh wedged between the older boy’s starts to move. His tongue dips into the swallow of his collarbone, squeezing Zayn’s cheeks as he does so, his hair grazing against Zayn’s skin as his kisses pepper towards the band of his boxers.

“Bloody hell,” Zayn mutters, and his voice sounds rough, breathless, and broken.

It’s either an acknowledging grunt or an agreeing moan, and either way, Niall’s lips vibrate against Zayn’s bellybutton and it’s electricity through his gut. His bum rubs into the mattress to stop himself from bucking up, grinding into Niall’s palms. Knees catching the blonde’s hips when he goes to sink between them, Zayn shifts impatiently. He’s done his part. He just wants to get off now, and Niall… He’s such a tease, his fingertips barely drifting against the fabric, snickering when Zayn jerks his hips up.

“For fuck’s sake, Niall,” he groans gruffly. “Stop stalling and get on with it.”

Niall makes a face, mouthing wetly at the wing of his hip.

“I could just leave, you know,” he says, but he won’t, Zayn knows, because that would mean missing out on the satisfaction of being there for Zayn’s first high orgasm. “Let you wank it off by yourself.”

“I would, if you didn’t have such a pretty mouth,” Zayn tosses back.

His boxers are down and before he can comment, before he can sigh with relief, Niall’s jerking him off recklessly and his nose scrunches.

“Not so fast, not so fast,” he mumbles, jaw going slack. His lashes droop low over his eyes, and Niall sees the shadows they cast over Zayn’s cheekbones, sees the twitch at the corner of his mouth, and hears the obscene moan when he goes down on him.

Zayn’s breath catches on words that he can’t make when his head feels like this. It’s ridiculous, and yet he feels so wonderfully caught up in getting blown. It’s not been like this since his first time getting sucked off when he came embarrassingly quickly in the adrenaline-shot high, on his girlfriend’s face, whining and fisting the bedsheets into his sweaty palms.

He’s not as bad now, sighing and shifting and watching because he’s a very visual person and Niall looks great giving head. Niall moves back to admire his work, Zayn’s erection stiff on his stomach, poking out his tongue to rasp along the length of it. Then it’s back to bobbing, his fist curled around what his lips can’t quite cover, letting Zayn gently rabbit into his mouth when he’s good. Zayn edges further and further up the bed, shoulders digging into the mattress when Niall sucks harder, his body heating up for something that he already knows is going to be incredible.

“Niall, _Niall_ , move up a little,” he pleads.

There’s a pause and Zayn goes to say it again, but Niall’s tongue swirls over the tip and that’s what he’s been wanting. Zayn finishes with Niall’s hand looped at the head of his cock, come on his abdomen, another stripe on Niall’s knuckles, and a few flecks on his skin, his mouth open and gasping and he’s vaguely aware that he yelled when he came.

The tissues brush up to his chest but he keeps his eyes closed as he lets his breathing mellow out in the flickering quiet. Niall kisses him, kisses his chest and his right cheek and his nose and, finally, his lips. Zayn feels the grin and returns it until Niall pulls back;

“You hungry?” he asks in a murmur.

Zayn nods, because he is.

“Come on, then,” Niall says quietly, offering his hand.

Zayn takes it with a grunt and lighter breaths but heavy steps, and he doesn't want to move, just wants to lie here with Niall, but then the boys, they'll see that they slept together and think... things. Besides, the crisps and drinks are all outside.

Clearly using the tail end of their highs as a lullaby, the other three have crashed and burned on the deck. Harry’s completely tucked into his sleeping bag except for his forehead and hair which are poking out the top, still on Louis’ lap, only he’s got a blanket on him. Liam’s passed out in Zayn’s chair and Zayn doesn’t have the heart to move him.

“Here,” Niall smiles, passing Zayn Liam’s sleeping bag. “He won’t be using it. You want a smoke?”

“No, I’m good.” Zayn unzips it and pulls it in tightly over his shoulders, leaning back against some cushions, Niall doing the same.

Harry sniffs and twitches, getting their attention with a mid-sleep grunt. Pushing back the curls that had swooped into the boy’s mouth, Zayn watches as his brows unclench and settle, the only two awake laughing quietly. Zayn turns to Niall and thinks _fuck it_ , because if Niall can call him beautiful then he can sneak a good night kiss, and he does, a soft peck that melts into more, before they curl up for the night.

(Liam wakes them up the next morning by tripping over Louis, which in turn jerks Harry awake, his brows mussed up into the hair he didn’t pin back before slipping into the sleeping bag. Niall emerges from the kitchenette to see what the commotion is, and when Liam asks later, back on land, what happened with him and Zayn, the blonde just tells him nothing in words but rather in the cheeky grin on his face.)


End file.
